


Fake Love

by allofthebirdsdiedin1986



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fran and Ricky are in a relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Multi, Ricky is a good child except for when he's being a serial killer, Ricky leads a double life, Ricky's a serial killer, Slow Burn, Tinsley is frustrated detective hunting a serial killer with no evidence, Tinsley's a detective, You should check it out, a couple of OC's that are adopted into Ricky's family, i might update irregularly cause i'm mostly working on my other series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-27 10:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthebirdsdiedin1986/pseuds/allofthebirdsdiedin1986
Summary: A perfect child, friend, and boyfriend by day, Ricky Goldsworth transforms into a meticulous, ruthless, serial killer at night. C.C. Tinsley is on his case with no evidence, no motive, and no suspects. The only thing he has to go on is the calling card left at every crime scene, a small gray pearl. Ricky's secret begins to bleed into his normal life, leaving friends and family with a lot of unanswered questions and Ricky with a detective on his tail. Basically a really slow burn with a serial killer Ricky and a detective Tinsley with a whole lot of storyline in between.





	1. Sunrise Over a Dead Body

Ragged breaths shredded through his chest as he plunged the knife in one last time. All he had to do was twist and he saw the life drain out of the woman’s eyes. Ricky stood up, careful not to touch anything, and casually walked over to the kitchen and washed his hands of blood, all while a dead woman, stabbed thirty-seven times in the chest, was laying on the living room floor.   
Ricky let his heart rate go down, let the rush of killing leave his body. He dried his hands and strolled back over to the body, where he plucked a ring off of her finger and sauntered out of the apartment complex.   
No one saw him, of course. He was too good of a killer for that. Ricky simply pulled his hood over his head, opened an umbrella, and walked off into the rain, ignoring the blood splatters on his shoes.   
He returned home at 2:30 am, slipping through the second-floor window of his bedroom. He quickly and silently wiped the blood off of his shoes and placed them in the same place they had been earlier. He washed his clothes that had gotten dirty in his bathroom sink. He washed his face of the minuscule specks of blood on it, blood that looked like freckles to him. Finally, he slipped into bed and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come to him.   
Sleep didn’t come easily to him these days, it was a part of the job. He was always looking over his shoulder, making sure he wouldn’t get caught. But he was meticulous and would be safe for another night at least. It didn’t stop the paranoia, but it eased it slightly. He was good at what he did, more so than others throughout history. This would keep him safe. He was safe. This thought was the one that sent him into a tumbling sleep riddled with obscure and confusing dreams that night.   
Ricky woke up too early. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table, 5:00. He groaned and rubbed his bleary eyes. He had dreamed of birds, crows that rested on the spikes of an iron palisade. Their features had distorted, shifting into horrible mutilations of their original image. Horrible mutilations of his own creation. Chills traveled down his spine at the thought and he quickly turned his attention to something else.   
With light steps, he made his way downstairs, pulled ingredients out of the fridge, and started to cook.  
By the time others woke up and wandered to the kitchen, messy-haired and bleary-eyed, Ricky was fully awake and was in the process of laying out an assortment of breakfast foods.   
His body melted as he felt a warm body press against him. He clasped one of the hands wrapped around his neck with his own and leaned back into his girlfriend’s body. He turned around and pressed a feather-light kiss against Fran’s cheek before pulling away and continuing his cooking.   
As the rest of the household shuffled in, Ricky began telling them of how he woke up early, with no clue why, and couldn’t fall asleep so he had come down to watch the sunrise. As more people crowded in, he told them of how he had stared in awe as the brilliant morning light had gradually flooded the room, wrapping everything in a divine glow. He watched smiles cross their sleepy faces and Ricky smiled himself.   
He was the perfect child, the perfect boyfriend, and the perfect friend. None of them had reason to suspect that he had anything else going on. It was perfect, nearly as glorious as watching the sun rise through the tall windows of the kitchen.   
When he finally sat down to eat, Ricky couldn’t help but clasp his free hand in Fran’s and take a moment to appreciate the double life that he led without trouble.


	2. A Gray Pearl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter to introduce characters, I promise the next one will be more exciting. Tinsley goes to the crime scene from the night before to try to find evidence of his killer. Also!! I changed what the calling card is in this chapter so if you get confused later on that’s why. Sorry I realized that I had another idea that I liked wayyy better later on so I changed it.

No evidence. No motive. No suspects.  
Tinsley pounded a fist on the desk, making it tremble under his force. He felt like he was so close, like the solution was on the tip of his tongue. If he caught this killer, it would be his big break, he would be able to quit and establish himself as a private detective, rather than working at the hell-hole he was employed at currently.  
It was the same person, without a doubt, he just couldn’t find them. It was statistically more likely to be a male, but the way it was done, the creative flair on it, suggested a female. Serial killers were notoriously hard to catch, with the lack of motive or connection to victims. Tinsley had been so sure that he could solve it, so arrogant in his abilities. Now he was stuck with a case he couldn’t crack and a future that prophesized spending the rest of his working life at the precinct.  
He stood and began pacing around the room, sifting through his brain for any possible thing that he could have missed. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time speculating with this. He needed a suspect, soon. It was at that thought that the elevator door opened and Banjo McClintock stepped out.  
He strolled over and pulled Tinsley aside to the corner of the room,  
“Another body, over at Grand Central. A girl, mid-twenties. It could be your guy’s work. The address is 227 Sovereign Hills, feel free to check it out.” Tinsley nodded as he walked away and felt a rush go through him, this could be it, there could be DNA evidence or video footage or eye-witness descriptions, he could catch his killer. He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and left without another word.  
By the time he got there, the local force had secured the scene and the forensic investigators were going around taking pictures and doing sketches. Tinsley quickly did the same from behind the tape, as he wasn’t sure how much they would allow him to see once he was in. It was a tidy apartment, though he could only see the kitchen and living room from where he stood. There were plants hanging by the balcony and plush, tasteful, pillows on the white leather couch. Alongside the pillows was blood, speckling the couch.  
And there, on the gray rug, was the woman. He quickly counted thirty-seven stab wounds in her chest, though it was hard to see with all the blood soaking her clothes and the rug beneath her. He finished sketching the area, took a couple more pictures, and then went up to the tape.  
“This is a crime scene, sir, please stay back.” A cop with a gruff voice cautioned him, with little effect. Tinsley rolled his eyes and showed his badge,  
“Detective Tinsley, I’m investigating a potential serial killer and have reason to believe that this killing is connected to my investigation.” The officer scrutinized him for a long moment before lifting the tape up, allowing Tinsley to duck under. With his height, it would almost be more beneficial to step over the tape, but it would be looked down on so Tinsley settled for crouching down as much as his back would allow in order to duck under.  
The smell didn’t hit him until he stepped into the room and his nose scrunched at the metallic, overpowering stench. He stepped towards the body and snapped a few pictures, getting a close up of her face and the stab wounds on her torso.  
The stabs were messy, passionate. Motions that would leave blood splatters on the surroundings and would soak into the clothing of the murderer. He took a few more minutes to inspect the body and immediate surroundings before walking over to the other detective on the scene. When the forensic assistant that she was talking with left, Tinsley stepped up and introduced himself.  
“Hi, Detective Tinsley from the 18th district, this case could be connected to a serial killer that I am investigating.” The woman smiled and shook his hand, seeming pleasant enough that Tinsley felt she must have forgotten the corpse in the room opposite them.  
“Holly Horsley, may I ask why you believe this killing to be connected to yours?” Tinsley nodded and led her over to the living room again. He crouched down by the body and looked to the end table beside the couch.  
“You see that?” He gestured to the bottom shelf of the table, where a small gray pearl was resting on top of a pile of books. It would simply look like a knick-knack to the average person. The detective nodded,  
“I’ve found that at every one of my crime scenes, all within eyeshot of the body.” Holly nodded slowly,  
“You think it’s your killer’s calling card.” Tinsley nodded and stood,  
“I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I take a look at the rest of the apartment.”  
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.” Her words hardly sounded sincere, but Tinsley accepted them anyway as he began to walk through the rest of the apartment.  
He came to a stop at the sink. A single trail of blood ran down the side of the sink and Tinsley could imagine it in an instant. A man washing his hands of blood as the body lay in the other room. Or maybe the woman had been standing at the sink when the man came, eventually making her way to the living room rug. He couldn’t let his imagination get the best of him. He quickly checked for fingerprints on the faucet but relented when he found none. His killer was too organized to leave prints, he should have known.  
By the time Tinsley left the apartment complex an hour later, he had little hope for his case. That wouldn’t stop him, however, just make his life more difficult. It was if he were wading through mud. He may reach his destination eventually, it would just take a long time and relentless effort. He let out a long sigh and went to find Banjo.


	3. Forever in Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and his sister wander around the city and ask some important questions about Ricky's relationship with Fran. Ricky has a theory that he's gathering evidence for.

Ricky found it intriguing; the detective was a young man, close to his age. He only knew that from his research, however, he would have never been able to tell by looking at him. He was aged beyond his years, modeling scruff that was over the line between attractive and unkempt. Under his eyes were dark circles that looked as if they had been there for years. Ricky observed all of this as he pretended to take pictures and search for evidence that he knew wasn’t there.   
It hadn’t been hard to get in. All he had to do was dress the part, and they let him in with the rest of the team, dismissing him as a new assistant. Of course, Tinsley wouldn’t notice either, as this was outside of his district’s boundaries. He wouldn’t know any of the forensic technicians, which made it Ricky’s perfect disguise.   
He could have not taken the risk but considering that the detective didn’t know his gender, much less his features, he figured that it was safe enough. It would also give him a chance to make certain that he hadn’t left any evidence behind, or to get rid of it if he had. He hadn’t, as always, but it was a nice reassurance. He also got an idea of how much the detective knew.   
After he shed his disguise and made his way back home, Ricky found himself in his sister’s room. He moved a couple of the papers surrounding her and sat down on the bed.  
“I don’t get what the big deal is with this job, I mean it’s just a building, right?” She laughed before realizing that he was serious and paused,  
“I am designing a headquarters for the richest man in the country, I’m pretty sure that qualifies for being a big deal.” The way she spoke brought back to that rainy day. He had been crying, upset about something he couldn’t remember, and had gone to Zahra’s room. Her rolling Kenyan accent had lulled him to sleep, where his worries dissipated. His dreams were less peaceful now, Ricky wondered if it was karma for his bad deeds. He had been five, and Zahra had just gotten to their house a week earlier.   
She was two years his senior, an older sibling that had grown up with his family, despite spending the first few years of her life in Kenya. She had told him about her life in Kenya that night, to calm him. He never forgot that night, even years later. Now her accent had faded a bit, blended into an American one, but Ricky would pick up hints of it, certain words pronounced differently, and instantly remember the drone of the rain and the melodic roll of her voice.   
Ricky pushed the thoughts from his mind and picked up one of the papers next to him. It was gorgeous, a stunning, innovative design that was unique and creative and, he paused, scrapped. It had been scribbled over, to the point that the pen had ripped through the paper in places.   
“I like this one.” He passed her the paper and she sighed,  
“So did I. It wasn’t good enough, though, it needs to be perfect.” She rubbed her eyes with her palms and leaned back into her bed. Ricky let a concerned smile cross his face before perking up.   
“Come on,” he pulled her hand away from another draft and stood up, straightening the comforter as he did. She hesitantly rose,   
“Come on Zee, we’re getting ice cream and going shopping. You need it.” She opened her mouth to argue before caving and allowing Ricky to lead her out the door of her room and into the streets of the city.   
They sat outside of a small ice cream shop in the heart of the city. It was a beautiful afternoon, with big cotton-ball clouds in the sky and the sun warming the ice cream in their cups.   
Zee took a bite of her ice cream before pointing her spoon at him.  
“Can I ask you something?” She inquired, already knowing his answer.  
“When are you going to propose to Fran?” Ricky leaned back in his chair, eyes wide. He hadn’t really thought about marriage, had put it far into the future. He paused, collecting his thoughts before answering,  
“I’m not sure. It always seemed like something in the far future to me, I mean I’m only twenty-three. I still have a whole life ahead of me. There’s time for all of that later.” He took a bite, twirling his spoon around.   
“Is it simply that you haven’t thought about it, or is it that you don’t want to, but aren’t willing to admit it?” They sat quietly for a long time, Ricky not willing to answer, and Zee not willing to push further.  
Eventually, he took her hand once more and they walked downtown together in comfortable silence, simply listening to the birds and absorbing the beauty of their environment. His adopted sister paused in front of a glass display, hand hovering over the surface. Ricky followed her gaze to a pair of intricate combs, the type of combs that would be placed delicately in hair for special occasions.   
Lotuses of bronze shone on the top of the combs, sparkling pearls embedded in the metal. Ricky glanced at his sister’s face and saw that she was staring through the window in awe. Ricky couldn’t for the life of him see why she was so magnetized by them, as they had items far more beautiful at home, but didn’t say anything of it.  
Zee entered the boutique in a haze, not even looking up when an employee cheerfully welcomed her. The door chimed excitedly as Ricky stepped through the door after her. He followed her to the opposite side of the window they had been staring through. There was a beat of silence.   
“They’re beautiful” she breathed. Ricky nodded,  
“Do you want me to get them? It can be my gift to you.” She shook her head.  
“No.” She let out a long exhale and stood for a few more moments. She left the store without another word and Ricky followed suit after waving at the cheerful employee.  
It was three hours later that they finally made their way back to the house. After parting ways with a promise that they would go out more often, both Ricky and Zee headed back to their rooms.   
Ricky locked the door behind him, then walked over to the far wall of his suite. He nimbly removed the painting from its hook and rested it on the side of his wardrobe. Then, ever so slowly, he pulled a loose brick from the wall and removed the ornate box that laid in the space within. It was a pretty little knick-knack, about the size of his phone, with embellished gold encrusting the stained glass design on the top. He held it lovingly in his hands for a moment before opening the lid, showing an assortment of items, all encrusted in blood.   
He turned the ring in his pocket for a few seconds before pulling it out and examining it. Gold, stained with red blood turned brown. He didn’t need the ring itself, it had no value to him. He needed what was inside it, or more accurately, the inscription printed on the inside of the band.   
Forever in debt  
An odd thing to put on a wedding ring. Especially considering that the woman wasn’t married. So who was she in debt to, and why was she wearing that on a ring? Ricky was pretty sure he knew the answer but didn’t allow himself to even think it for fear that he was right. He placed the ring in the box. It nestled perfectly in with the others. Jewelry of all sorts, all with the same inscription.  
Forever in debt.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you have any suggestions/comments feel free to let me know! :)


End file.
